I Don't Care If You're Contagious
by SociallyObscene
Summary: "...he couldn't help but look at the thick, protruding scars that wrapped over his arms like ribbons - but the ribbons weren't hauntingly beautiful anymore and they were starting to cut off his circulation, enveloping his entire body until he couldn't see anything but scar tissue and pale skin shining like spaces between grains of salt." Based off a PTV song. PHAN. 1SHOT.


**Hi! I know I don't normally post phanfics, it's just that I was on the phan tag and I saw someone say "Please write a story based off 'I don't care if you're contagious by pierce the veil" AND I WAS SO EXCITED TO DO IT. Like, super excited. Anyway, I know some of the paragraphs may seem long but I tried really hard on this! :D**

**If you have any songs you want turned into fics like this, be sure to PM or review and I'll see what I can do!**

**Disclaimer: Dan and Phil are real people that are not canon. **

* * *

_Silence._

It was silent for the first time in days and he didn't know what to do. It scared him - no, it _terrified _him, because for once the constant thread of voices whispering into his head were something he wanted back. He could rely on voices, raspy vocal chords stringing together tunes that would sing him to insanity, but silence was different. Silence was horrifying, maddening suspense, as if he could hear the blood flowing through his brain and his heartbeat pounding in his ears erratically, like a bicycle wheel with one of its spokes missing.

He hated this. He hated feeling the way he did - because Daniel James Howell knew that he wasn't insane, but at the same time, he couldn't feel anything but the sort. His eyes raked over his skin and he couldn't help but look at the thick, protruding scars that wrapped over his arms like ribbons - but the ribbons weren't hauntingly beautiful anymore and they were starting to cut off his circulation, enveloping his entire body until he couldn't see anything but scar tissue and pale skin shining like spaces between grains of salt.

_What am I even doing with my life? _Dan thought to himself, casting his ballpoint pen to the side of his desk. His eyes were swimming with legalities and foreseeable risks and undisclosed principals and whatever the fuck lawyers had to learn in order to be something, to be something good and composed, and he knew he was only doing this shit work because if he didn't he knew he'd slip - back into what, he wasn't sure.

Dan forced himself to grip the pen again and write down another paragraph about uninsured motorist clauses, his teeth grinding against each other as he realized with each letter how far away he was to his goal and that each stroke was pulling him back into an abyss, but the silence was so strong and his head was throbbing and he didn't know what else to do so he just wrote. He wrote lines after lines until the space between his thumb and forefinger was aching with a dull fire and his teeth felt raw from the pressure.

"Dan?" he heard a familiar voice whisper, but Dan didn't turn his head to see who it was because he already knew. Dan didn't answer, so the voice crept into his room and shut the creaking door in a quiet motion, as if the loud noise would startle Dan and scare him away. "Come on, it's already four in the morning, get to sleep."

He didn't reply.

"_Dan," _he pleaded, and Dan hated when he did that sort of voice, because the only person that could get him to do anything was standing right behind him with a comforting hand on his shoulder and for that specific reason Dan hated Phillip Michael Lester. Dan hated Phil so much because his arborescent hands could soothe Dan to the point of sanctuary and his eyes reminded him of galaxies as they poured into Dan's and when Dan wasn't thinking about his distress and law school and the fact that he was fucking useless he was thinking of _philphilphil _and nothing else.

"I feel like I'm going to explode," Dan said, and he was telling the truth. His throat was closing and he could hear his blood running through his veins and his brain was a bicycle wheel with missing spokes circling on a rusty chain, and he so desperately wanted to yell to Phil to get off of him but he knew that's not what was going to happen because that's never what happened.

"Let's go to sleep," Phil said, guiding Dan by the shoulders onto his bed, pausing to flicker off the desk lamp so that the two were in almost-darkness. Dan sucked in a breath, but Phil squeezed his shoulders and guided him expertly to the comforting sheets on Dan's bed. The glow from the moon shone through cracks Phil's hair as they reached the window, illuminating his features.

"I'm not tired," Dan whispered, yawning, like the darkness could be aware of a secret he was trying to keep, his eyes trying to memorize every detail on Phil's face.

"Yes, you are." He smiled, tucking the sheets in around Dan, but Dan could see the bags under his eyes and the way they were red, slightly, as if he had been crying or staring at a screen for too long. It was probably the latter, but Dan couldn't help but feel so angry at himself because he just _knew _that he was the reason Phil was up all night wondering if Dan was sleeping or if he was crying or stressing himself out and Dan felt so fucking useless in that moment because he couldn't even be strong enough to not worry Phil.

God dammit, he hated Phil Lester.

"I don't want to go to bed." _Fuck, I sound so childish._

"You'll be okay," Phil said, starting to slide into the sheets himself, because it was obvious by the way Dan was holding onto Phil's arm that he wasn't going to let him retire to his own room. Dan shifted closer to Phil in an almost instinctual way, lying on his side and facing him. Phil's fingers felt like a cool breeze lapping at Dan's skin as he subconsciously traced the skin between Dan's scars, as if trying to find a map that would lead to a reason why.

"_Sure_ I will-"

"_You'll be okay," _Phil promised, his voice sounding like a damaged violin, and he looked into Dan's eyes and Dan had to believe him because if he couldn't believe the blue eyes that always told him the truth, then he was fucked far more than he thought he was.

And then Phil was singing and Dan loved the raspy baritone that was Phil's voice and how it would sing him to sleep better than any pill, but this time was different. This time Dan couldn't focus on the string of melodies coming out in wisps on the back of his neck as he lay awake with Phil's arms wrapped around him protectively but on the fact that Phil had to promise him twice and that Dan felt cold even in the warm sheets and that his head felt like it was shaking in turbulence. He was just done and he hated everything and he especially hated Phil.

But Dan knew that Phil wouldn't stop singing until Dan was asleep, so he willed himself to squeeze his eyes shut while he begged for the voices to come back because even if they were telling him to jump off his balcony, at least he wouldn't be so lonely.

* * *

_Tick._

Dan's eyes scanned the pages of _Contemporary Criminal Law, _the horrendous textbook he had been reading for ages. He'd read seven pages and yet had only processed three lines of the text, his eyes unfocused and glassy like they were trying to hold back tears, which, in fact, they were.

_Tock._

The voices were back and Dan wasn't as thankful as he thought he would be, because they were shouting obscenities every second at him while whispering taunts and sickening ideas and it was making his brain feel like it was imploding on itself.

_Tick._

"I don't get this at all," Dan mumbled to himself, shutting the textbook. It closed with a loud _thwack _that resounded throughout the his small bedroom and into the hallway and he winced for a moment, anticipating Phil to rush through the door and ask what was wrong.

_Tock._

He didn't come. For some reason, Dan's heart sunk. He didn't understand why, but he couldn't care long enough because a sharp pain dug into the side of his skull like a centipede with iron teeth crawling into a wall and his unfocused eyes became oversensitive in that moment and it felt like he could see _everything _and understand _everything _and the voices were louder and they were yelling, screaming at him.

_Tick._

Dan hissed in pain as he gripped his skull with two hands, but the voices were roaring and he wondered faintly through it all if his eardrums would pop. _You pathetic little freak! Kill yourself! Kill yourself! Kill yourself! _they taunted. And Dan wished for a moment of peace and serenity while his eyes desperately scanned the room looking for an aid to his unconsciousness or anything that would get him away. He clamped down on his teeth and he couldn't even hear the sound and his hands were itching for his drawer where he kept his razors and he wanted so desperately to cling to whatever shred of sanity he had left but he just _couldn't._

_Tock._

Dizziness flooded his senses and Dan's legs gave out. He collapsed onto his bed and started biting the sheets to keep from screaming, but he just _couldn't._

_Tick._

_Tick._

_Tick._

"_I can't fucking take this anymore!" _Dan screamed, louder than he ever thought was possible, and the words were echoing back and forth in his ears until he realized that _yes, he couldn't possibly take this anymore. _He almost fell on the floor from the dizziness while his fingers fumbled with the handle of his drawer, and he couldn't see and he couldn't feel and all he could do was desperately search while voices in his head screamed at him with delight and praise. And when he ripped open the top of the container that held his escape, the sharp objects scattered over the carpeted floor and Dan sliced his fingers trying to pick them up, but he didn't care. In jumbled seconds his arms were dripping with blood and he felt like thousands of bees were stinging him but he _didn't care._

"_Dan?!" _He heard the distressed cry call from the doorway, and Dan started laughing, a cackle that resounded in the small room. His laugh was like a broken record playing on a scratched section over and over, and soon his euphoria died down and the laughs turned into sobs. His back hunched even though his arms lay at his sides still dripping blood on his already stained carpet and Phil was there, crying and trying to get him to calm down enough so he could get rid of all the blood. Dan knew that Phil was really telling himself to calm down.

_Tick._

_Tock._

_Tick._

"Hi," Dan said once he'd calmed down, feeling disoriented and dizzier than before. He couldn't focus on Phil's face but simply on the pain that was digging at his arms. Idly, he shifted to watch Phil frantically wiping off the blood and cleaning the wounds with some peroxide that stung _really _badly, but his eyes hadn't focused enough to see the wounds themselves. "What are you doing?"

Phil didn't say anything.

"I asked you a question," Dan said, "and this kind of hurts."

"Dan, can you please just hold on for a moment?" Phil pleaded. The tone was raw and strangled, and Dan faintly remembered Phil telling him about how he couldn't become a vet because the sight of blood made him faint.

"Okay."

And so it was silent, silent in reality but in Dan's head voices were raging and telling him that he had failed. And he felt horrible about failing and he knew that he was never going to be a success because _look _at him, he was sitting on the floor in a pool of his own blood while his twenty-four year old roommate he was hopelessly in love with cleaned him up sloppily with a first-aid-kit his mother had given him as a precaution, and _god they needed it now._

Dan didn't know how long he stayed there, simply listening to the voices and their pitches and tones and he realized that they were all his and he selfishly thought, _maybe I'm just crazy instead of depressed. _He just knew he was deluding himself, however, and a layer of numbness settled onto his skin and permeated through his skull and he didn't even notice when Phil started shaking him for the first five seconds he had been doing it.

"Dan, _listen _to me. Can you hear me?" Phil asked, looking straight into Dan's eyes. His eyes were the sort of blue he saw on pale blogs on tumblr and this electric blue pen he had when he was seven.

"Yeah?"

"Are you listening?"

"Yeah, I am."

"No you're not."

Phil slapped Dan across the cheek.

"What was that for?!" Dan asked, rushing to aid his tender skin, but the jolt of pain in his arm was almost blinding. He hissed in pain, and then he remembered what had happened in the last ten minutes as the numbness washed away in one quick rinse. He looked down at his arms and saw them bandaged but the bandages were already soaked with lines streaking them like a bloody zebra and he gagged.

"Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck _fuck_. Phil, I'm a monster!" He screeched, and he so desperately wanted to cry but he just _couldn't, _the tears wouldn't come and he was left searching for answers in Phil's tired eyes with his eyes wide open. He gripped onto Phil's shoulders because he felt himself starting to slip away.

"Dan, I don't care if you're sick," Phil said firmly, confidently, and Dan's grip on his shoulders only grew tighter. _He's lying, _a voice told him, but Dan squeezed his eyes shut and tried to make the voice go away.

"You don't." Dan blinked.

You should just go," Dan said. "I'll just make you depressed as well being here-"

"I don't care if you're contagious." His tone was final, and the words he spoke climbed into Dan's stomach and filled the hollow space with the first warmth he had felt in a long time and the sensation almost felt lukewarm because of the ice thawing in his heart. But his arms still felt like they had been mauled by a bear and his mind was thrashing with a constant battle, the voices futilely pushing the heat out of his body and Dan somehow holding his ground.

They stayed silent for a few moments, and Dan just let himself look at Phil in the simplest way. He loved how everything on his face was so large, but it didn't look stupid or ridiculous and it all fit somehow. When Phil smiled at Dan he looked at how his tongue didn't quite stay in his mouth and how his nose was slightly too big for his face but it was just perfect and he loved all of it and he was fucked.

Because Dan often deluded himself into thinking that he wasn't in love with Phil because he knew he hated him just as much as he loved him, but fuck it was his motto and he was sticking by that and god it made it so much easier to admire him when he wasn't telling himself to shut up about it.

An idea popped into Dan's head, and he smiled. "Let's go get drunk."

So at one in the morning they were on their way to a nightclub, and Dan's sinuses were on fire with the smell of Phil clogging his senses with pepper and laundry detergent and camera film.

* * *

"Mate, I-I hate law," Dan slurred, taking an unnecessarily large sip of his cocktail. Coke and rum had never buzzed him this much, but he figured the buzz was partially alcohol induced and partially due to Phil being so close to him on the bar. They were practically pouring into each other, laughing as soon as they met eye contact, and feeling tipsy felt like ages ago because now everything was hyper focused and blurry at the same time. Dan took another sip, and the burning sensation in his throat almost made him sneeze.

"Really?" Phil was in a similar condition - his ears were pink and his blue eyes were glazed over, but he looked positively amazing even with Dan's blurry vision.

"Yeah. Fuck motorist clauses and usuri-usu…" Dan frowned, unable to say the word usurious like his tongue would bite down each time he tried. He raised his voice to beat the new song that was playing loudly over the night club. "That thing where interest on debt exceeds the max interest rate allowed by law?"

"Did you read a law dictionary?" Phil asked, his voice equally as loud.

"I have the social life of a stop sign," Dan said, shrugging, as if this statement was completely justifiable for reading a law dictionary.

"What?" And then Phil was grinning at Dan for some reason Dan didn't really understand, but he was okay with it. The two looked over at the dance floor and back at each other.

The night club itself was packed with people, but the dim lights and the cocktails had made the crowd seem like a black blob of silhouettes. The only illumination he could see while staring at the shadowy abyss that was the dance floor was from blacklights, but the smoke was thick enough that the light was diminished and it seemed more creepy than seductive. Dan's ears were ringing from all the house music but it was okay because he could still hear Phil and the alcohol was absolutely buzzing inside his stomach like butterflies on LSD and everything but Phil was fading away.

Dan and Phil had been studying each other for a while, and every few seconds Phil's gaze would shift away from Dan's face and onto his tightly bandaged arms with a look of sadness raging in his eyes. Phil wasn't drunk enough and Dan could still feel a ping of sadness so he decided to fuck it like he always did and threw the present down with enough force to disorient himself just thinking about it.

"Do you want to dance?" Dan asked, downing his drink with one swift motion. He lifted a finger to call for another coke and rum.

Phil chuckled. "You don't dance."

It was true. Dan was a horrible dancer, and occasionally Dan would dance to the music played on their radio show on sunday evenings. Over time, his dance moves were called an "epileptic shuffle" by a few, which gave enough of an impression that he wasn't exactly the best dancer given that even his fans couldn't even praise him like they always did. Not that he complained, he liked it when people gave him something to laugh about.

Dan smiled and leaned close to Phil. "That's why I asked."

So Phil pulled Dan by the pinkie into the mass of silhouettes, and soon they were just another shadow. The music was even louder and Dan almost worried that his eardrums would burst, and the acrid smell of sweat and sex seemed to shift with the smoke machines scattered across the fluorescent dancefloor. Dan didn't feel like rave dancing and all Phil knew how to do was waltz, so they stood in the middle of the room stepping on each other's feet because Dan couldn't dance at all while being passed by the current of people. "Cinema" by Skrillex blasted all around them but for some reason the sloppy night was perfect and exquisite and jubilant.

"You're so pretty," Dan commented idly, and he was okay with Phil not being able to hear him because the words felt like secrets that only he knew, so when Phil asked him to repeat what he said Dan just giggled drunkenly, hoping that was enough of a clue as to what he said.

"You look completely mental when you do that," Phil yelled over the music.

"It's a side-effect of depression," Dan said.

"Is it now?"

"Yeah. So is falling in love with your best mate!"

Phil hadn't registered what Dan had just blurted out. Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe he was just processing something so blatantly obvious, but for whatever reason Phil just laughed.

"I didn't know homosexuality was a side-effect of depression," Phil pondered out loud.

Dan shoved Phil away from him playfully and in doing so, Phil knocked heads with a girl with hair streaming in ringlets all over her face. Phil apologized quickly, but for some reason this was just the funniest thing that had ever happened to the two. Dan and Phil bursted into uncontrollable laughter, collapsing into each other in fits of giggles and strings of stifled snorts and Dan thought he could burst all the blood vessels in his face if this continued but he didn't care because it was so fucking funny.

Dan tried to compose himself, but every time he tried to form a sentence, he'd start up again and his body would shake from laughing and his sides hurt. His voice was horrible and stuttery when he leaned into Phil and said, "I don't think it is."

They laughed even harder.

"You're mental," Phil commented, and Dan swatted at him lethargically.

"No," he said childishly, "I'm depressed."

" And homosexual," Phil added.

"Just for you!"

And Dan gripped Phil's hand and the friction of just their fingers brushing against each other was magnified and fantastic so Dan just kept holding onto his hand and noticed that Phil was holding on just as strong. And when Phil whispered into Dan's ear Dan grinned wider than he had ever done before in his life.

"I'll chase away the darkness for you."

They were like drunken kites.

* * *

Dan was vomiting in the bathroom when Phil woke up. His tolerance for alcohol wasn't as sturdy as Phil's was, and the events of last night came back with each retch and he just felt so stupid for saying all those things regardless of how much he wanted to be drunk. Dan could hear Phil get up from his bed - apparently they'd collapsed on the same bed without climbing into the sheets - and run over to the kitchen, and when Dan was done vomiting there was a glass of water and painkillers in a little dish next to a piece of toast.

Dan rinsed his mouth out with most of the water before taking the pills dry, and they sort of evaporated onto his tongue and were sticking to his throat so he bit into the toast to force the pills down before telling Phil thanks.

Dan ate the rest of his toast slower and when he was done, he looked down to his bandages and found them rum stained and bloodier than they were previously. Dan faintly remembered having a nightmare, and one of the bruises on Phil's arms made him realize that he was thrashing in his sleep again.

"Let's change the bandages," Phil said, motioning for Dan to hold out his arms. He did so while Phil reached under the sink and grabbed the blood-smudged first aid kit. It looked more authentic and enrapturing in Dan's opinion, but Phil's grimace told him that he didn't feel the same way. The gauze made a sound like glue being ripped from skin as Phil rolled it again, uncovering Dan's arms.

They were messy, to say the least. The hasty job had left Dan's arms covered in blood from the gauze being shifted during the night and thin, puffy red lines littered every inch of his skin. He paled slightly once he realized how deep some of them were.

"I'm going to need stitches," Dan whispered, looking up at Phil. "Get the sewing kit."

Phil just stared at him like he was insane. "Are you kidding? No way. If you need stitches, we're going to hospital."

"Phil, they'll admit me." Dan said, and his heart was thumping against his chest in a way that made him uncomfortable. He tried to stand, but a wave of dizziness rushed over him as he realized that he hadn't eaten anything other than the toast in two days.

"Maybe that's for the best?" Phil suggested, but he knew Dan didn't want to go.

"Phil." It came out more as a plead than a command, but Phil held his hands up in surrender a lot quicker than Dan thought he would.

"Dan, ultimately, I can't pull you out of yourself. I can't save you, but I can help you save yourself."

Phil didn't let Dan reply, but simply went back to inspecting his wounds. Dan couldn't really form a coherent thought as he realized what Phil had said to him. It was obvious that Phil couldn't pull him out of his own thoughts, it wasn't his place. But what about him staying by his side and chasing away the darkness? Dan felt stupid and ridiculous for thinking it, but he couldn't imagine recovery without Phil there to take some of the burden. And he knew that's what would happen because Phil was kind and gentle and couldn't even take a pencil from the ground without asking everyone in the vicinity if it was theirs first, but Dan knew that Phil was serious, and it scared him.

The smell of antiseptic filled Dan's lungs as Phil wiped away the blood with a sponge, and Dan hissed in pain. "Sorry, sorry, I should have told you first," Phil apologized sincerely, stopping to make sure Dan was alright. And these were the times where the hatred Dan felt for Phil were almost deafening, because Phil was so much more than Dan could ever be.

"It's okay," Dan said, still trying to collect his thoughts, but it was like raking leaves into a pile that was only meant to get jumped into over and over again until he finally allowed himself to throw them out once and for all.

It felt like bees were stinging him as Phil used a cotton swab to get some of the gauze fuzz out of his cuts, but he grit his teeth and told himself he wasn't going to make any sign of pain because he couldn't distress Phil. Dan was always a horrible liar.

When Phil left to grab the sewing kit, Dan wondered if Phil remembered anything of what happened last night, about him telling Phil that he loved him and that he was a raging homosexual. He thought about it but didn't let himself think about it too much, because he knew that thinking too much would bring the voices back - his inner demons.

The metal biscuit tin they kept the sewing supplies in clanged on the marble counter, shaking Dan out of his thoughts. He gazed at Phil, who was trying to compose himself while taking the lid off the tin. "I'm shit at this," Phil said, giving a pointed look at Dan, and Dan knew Phil must have been horrendously worried because he never swore. "I'm using black string, to match your soul, if you were wondering."

Dan didn't have it in him to smile. Phil wasn't typically sarcastic or abrasive, but Dan knew that his emotions were taking a corrosive toll on him.

"This is going to hurt," Phil said, and that was the only warning he gave Dan and then the needle was embedded into Dan's skin. He gasped in surprise, but Phil kept stitching without stopping, and Dan realized how shaky Phil must have been in that moment and how he didn't want to do it and Dan realized he was pretty fucking selfish and was the worst friend ever. So Dan closed his eyes, his cheeks red for some reason, because even though this was a totally serious moment Dan could feel Phil breathing on him as he worked and his arm was tightly held by Phil's calloused hands. His bones were almost embarrassed by the attention.

"I'm done," Phil said, and Dan looked at the uneven stitches on three of his wounds. "The rest will be fine," he added, then reached for a new roll of gauze and started to wrap Dan's arms again.

"You are better than toast," Dan said, and he knew it was Phil's line but maybe that would break the tension a bit because Dan didn't really like feeling like a dick to his friend and his throat felt dry like he had never drunk cold water before.

Phil gave him a small smile. "Shut up."

"I'm sorry, you're just fantastic when you're flustered," Dan replied without thinking.

"You would think that, as the raging homosexual that is in love with me."

Well, shit. Dan pursed his lips. "So I'm in love with you, is that strange? It happens with best friends all the time." Shit shit shit shit.

Dan was about to ramble again on some lost tangent until Phil pecked Dan's lips. It jolted him with heat, and he was going to close the distance between them-

"Let's leave," Phil whispered to Dan, who was trying to hold back disappointment. "Let's just get out of here and get drunk and let's run away and make videos in a different house every week." And Phil must've been unable to contain himself any longer, because then he was kissing Dan and Dan was so horribly confused by what was even happening for a few moments so he just sat there with Phil's lips moving against his. Eventually he realized, oh shit this is happening, and started moving his hands into Phil's hair while kissing him back and everything was on fire and just philphilphil and Dan would be lying if he said he didn't want to kiss Phil like this for days and days without being interrupted.

"You're not serious," Dan said, once he'd realized what Phil had said, and he looked into his pupils, as if forcing himself directly into Phil's brain to find out what he was doing. "What about the radio show?"

"We'll only be gone a week. I just need to get out of here. With you." Phil kissed Dan again just because he could.

"As long as you kiss me like this while I drive."

"Deal."

It wasn't silent in Dan's head at all - it was just Phil and nothing else, and he was okay with that.

* * *

**Abrupt ending, I know, I'm super freaking lame. BUT! If you have any song suggestions then hey I can make them into a fic! I might work on one based off of the song "Casimir Pulaski Day" by Sufjan Stevens (which is a great song, check it out) but I'm not sure. Anyway, review and tell me what you think! **

**P.S. I started a phan blog a few days ago and the url is . check it out if you ship!**

_-SOCIALLYOBSCENE_


End file.
